


Kiss It Better

by Isis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-09
Updated: 2004-02-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2591189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/pseuds/Isis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry gets into a motorbike accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss It Better

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift for DragonLight, who broke her hand in a car wreck, with a nod to a certain scene in _Raiders of the Lost Ark_.

It was nothing like being on a broom, thought Harry.  The checkerboard of farmers' fields was the same, the tiny cottages that looked like dollhouses were the same, but instead of his legs being clamped around a narrow broomstick he was sitting back on the comfortable leather seat of Sirius's motorbike, his feet high on the pegs and his arms wide on the handlebars.  A warming charm kept the chill December wind away, and the thrum of the magical engine coursed through him.  Oh, this was cruising.  This was luxury.  He was going to have to talk Sirius into letting him borrow it again, that was for sure. 

He made one more slow arc above the countryside and then headed back for London, checking to be sure the Disillusionment charm was still in place before flying over the more populated areas.  That was amazing too, looking down at the motorways and factories, the cars all tied to the ribbons of macadam while he flew above.  So different from flying over the Quidditch pitch at school, or the wildlands that surrounded Hogwarts and Hogsmeade.  A perfect end to a perfect weekend. 

After Sirius had stumbled back through the veil at Samhain, Dumbledore had reluctantly, after a great deal of pleading on both sides, given Harry permission to spend occasional weekends with his godfather at 12 Grimmauld Place.  Perhaps he realized what a blow it had been to Harry to have lost Sirius, and how desperately he wanted, needed him back in his life.  These weekends were highlights for both of them, and they both looked forward to Christmas, when they'd have two glorious weeks together. 

But for now it was time to return to the townhouse.  Sirius had taken him on the bike with him before, but this had been his first solo flight, and he didn't want to make Sirius worry by being one minute over the thirty they'd agreed upon.  Harry squinted into the sunset, looking for the magical beacon that Sirius had placed on the roof to guide him -- there, there it was, and he banked the motorbike into a turn and carefully lined himself up.  As he got closer he could see Sirius on the roof, waiting for him, scanning the sky -- of course, he couldn't see Harry because of the charm, but it was sweet, thought Harry, that he was still up there looking. 

It was a wonderful thing to do, and it had been a wonderful weekend, and a wonderful ride, and Harry's heart was full to bursting right up until he brought the motorbike in for a landing, just as Sirius stepped into his flight path, and as he jerked on the handlebars to avoid him, the bike's front wheel slid on a patch of ice, and the next thing he knew he was hard on the concrete with the bike on top of him. 

He yelped, more from surprise than from pain; Sirius heard, and rushed over to remove the Disillusionment charm.  Harry looked up into Sirius's face, embarrassed and dismayed:  "I'm sorry," he began, and then the pain hit, and his face scrunched up with the effort not to scream.  "My hand," he gasped out, closing his eyes.  It had been pinned to the roof by the weight of the bike, and God, it hurt.  Worse than being hit by a Bludger. 

Sirius was babbling reassuring things to him, a constant stream of _don't worries_ and _hold ons_.  He put one shoulder under the bike and pushed it upright, lifting it off of Harry, then bent to scoop him into his arms.  A small moan escaped Harry's mouth as his body shifted position, and Sirius's face crumpled as though it had been he who had been injured.  "It's okay, Harry, you'll be okay, I'm sorry, I'll take care of you, let's get inside, I'm sorry," over and over again; Harry leaned into Sirius's comforting warmth and let the words wash over him. 

Inside Sirius laid him on a bed and sat beside him.  "Can I look?" 

"Yeah," bit out Harry.  It was an effort, but he didn't want to cry.  Not in front of Sirius.  Slowly he unfurled his arm so both of them could look. 

Sirius drew in a breath, shook his head.  He looked horrified; it couldn't be that bad, could it?  Harry's eyes went to the mangled mess that was his hand, and he gulped.  It could. 

"Merlin's balls, Harry, I'm so sorry."  

"Not your fault."  He winced with the pain.  "Can you --?" 

"Sorry, of course, what was I thinking." He took his wand from his pocket with his right hand and gently cradled Harry's hand with his left.  "There's only so much -- I'm not a mediwizard, you know."  Tentatively he tapped the side of Harry's hand under his little finger, where the skin was broken and discoloured, whispering, " _Osseoreparo_." 

"Ow!" 

"I bet it hurts," said Sirius.  "Can you move it?" 

 He flexed his hand carefully.  The angry blue and yellow of the bruise hadn't diminished, and it still hurt, but it was not nearly as painful as before.  It really wasn't as bad as it had looked, or felt.  "Better." 

"Good."  Sirius ran a hand through his hair; he looked as though he wanted to say something, and Harry hurriedly forestalled him. 

"I'm sorry, I really am.  I didn't mean to mess up your bike." 

"I'm not worried about the bike," said Sirius.  "It's more important to get you patched up." 

"But I didn't mean to wreck it!" he burst out.  It almost hurt to say it out loud.  Sirius would never let him ride it again, and that hurt even more. 

"It's not wrecked.  Just dinged a little."  Sirius grinned, slid a hand down Harry's arm.  "Just like you." 

Involuntarily he  flinched as Sirius's hand went over a bruise on his elbow that he hadn't noticed before.  "Ow -- more than a little, I guess." 

Sirius's face was all concern.  "Let me see." 

"It's nothing.  Just a bruise."  But he rolled up his sleeve anyway, revealing purpling skin.  "My hand hurts worse." 

"Well, I'm afraid that I don't know a spell to make it stop hurting," said Sirius.  "But there is a special sort of magic I do know," he continued, and bent to kiss Harry's elbow.  "How's that?" 

"Kiss it better," Harry recited, smiling.  He felt warm all over.  Sirius's long hair had fallen across his arm when he'd kissed him, tickling him and making his skin tingle.  His warm breath had tickled too, making the fine hairs on his arm stand up, and he was sure it was covered with goose-bumps now.  Sirius had kissed him before, on the top of his head, but the top of his head was covered with hair and it didn't feel quite the same as this, not tickly and tingly and goose-bumpy. 

"Did it work?" 

"Oh, yes." He squirmed a little, trying to regain some contact with the other man's body.  It did feel better.  "Can you do my hand, too?" 

Laughing, Sirius lifted Harry's hand to his lips.  "Here," he said, kissing the spot under his little finger.  Then his knuckles.  Then his wrist.  Then he turned his hand over and planted a soft kiss right in the centre of his palm. 

It seemed as though he could sense magic in Sirius's kisses, radiating up his arm, seeping into his bones, sparkling like a potion made from billywigs and Fizzing Whizbees.  "Feels good," said Harry, then blushed. 

"It's supposed to," said Sirius.  "Told you, it's special magic.  Hurt anywhere else?" 

"Here," said Harry, indicating his shoulder, and Sirius kissed him through his shirtsleeve.  Pulling his shirt open he pointed to his collarbone:  "Here," he said, and Sirius, still laughing, bent to place a kiss on the gentle hollow by his neck.  "Here," said Harry, breathlessly, pointing to his lips. 

Sirius stopped laughing. 

"Please," said Harry. 

"I shouldn't -- I didn't mean -- I shouldn't have let myself kiss you, Harry, I'm sorry --" 

"Will you stop saying you're sorry?"  The words came out harsher than he'd intended, and at the stricken look on Sirius's face he felt all the delicious fizziness evaporate.  "Please don't be sorry you kissed me.  I liked it." 

"I liked it too.  But you're my godson."  He gave Harry a crooked smile that didn't reach his eyes.  "I'm not supposed to feel this way about you." 

"What way?" whispered Harry, reaching out with his uninjured hand to stroke Sirius's shoulder.  Please, he thought fiercely, please. 

Finally Sirius gave a half-strangled sob and turned toward him.  "This way," he said, his hands going to Harry's shoulders and pushing him back against the bed, his body stretching full-length against Harry's, his lips finding Harry's lips and melting, hot and sweet, against them. 

Harry opened his mouth eagerly, darted his tongue into Sirius's mouth, tasting the magic that made him tingle and fizz.   Sharp hipbones pressed into his side, bringing more hidden bruises and aches to life, but he didn't want to roll away, didn't want the heavy weight of Sirius to move off him.  Didn't want anything other than for Sirius to keep kissing him, touching him, caressing him. 

Something else was coming to life as well.  Every bit of his body was responding to Sirius's kisses, to the body covering his own, and as his erection stirred in his jeans he wriggled against the other man, grinding against him, seeking friction.  Oh, it felt good from his lips all the way to his toes, but most especially it felt good just right there, and he couldn't help but give a small moan. 

"You like this," murmured Sirius into his mouth. 

Harry squeezed him tightly, unable to speak.  He liked it, he loved it, he wanted it to never end.  But after another tingling, magical kiss Sirius pulled away. 

"Still hurt?" 

He stroked his hand along Sirius's side, willing him to come back, to continue.  He gave him a half-smile.  "If I say yes, will you kiss me some more?" 

Sirius ruffled his hair.  "I will kiss you some more regardless.  I just want to make certain that you're not still in pain." 

"You're doing a great job of taking my mind off it," Harry said, grinning.  "Now come back," he pleaded, wriggling against Sirius again, pulling him down against his body. 

"Oho," said Sirius, raising an eyebrow.  He pushed him back against the mattress and sat up, running a deliberate hand down Harry's body to the bulge in his jeans. 

"Told you I liked it," mumbled Harry, as the hand caressed him lightly. 

"I don't know."  Sirius shook his head; his expression was grave but his eyes were dancing.  "That can't be comfortable.  You must be in terrible pain."  Deftly he unbuttoned Harry's jeans and slid in his hand, then looked up at him with a wicked smile.  "Let me kiss it better." 


End file.
